painted worlds
by ncfan
Summary: Yachiru and Nemu paint.


**Characters**: Yachiru, Nemu**  
Summary**: Yachiru and Nemu paint.**  
Pairings**: None**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: None**  
Timeline**: No timeline needed**  
Author's Note**: I've seen another author have Yachiru call Nemu "Miniskirt-chan", and it seems like something Yachiru would say.**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Nemu is Yachiru's friend, but then, Yachiru thinks everyone's her friend so no one can really be certain if Nemu herself looks at Yachiru that way or if she just tolerates the little girl's company. Nemu's poker face is such that no one's ever really sure just what she's thinking, let alone a child like Yachiru who doesn't read people very well.

But Yachiru likes Nemu all the same, and when she begs and begs and begs Nemu to come and paint with her with the watercolor palette she's been given, again, no one's sure if Nemu's agrees to it because she's taken pity on the girl, or if it's just the unquestioning obedience that Mayuri has—quite literally—beaten into her coming into play.

"Yay! Miniskirt-chan!" Kenpachi's big office is vacant for the day since the captain's gotten bored and has decided to take Ikkaku and Yumichika and go around looking for a good fight, so Yachiru has commandeered the room for painting purposes. Yachiru, without a second thought when Nemu knocks on the door, opens it and grabs the girl by the wrist to drag her inside, ignoring the sharp gasp of pain hissing from Nemu's mouth. Nemu's always sore, always carries herself like her ribs are aching; Yachiru's gotten used to it, and, never terribly considerate of other's feelings, ignores it.

Chattering exuberantly, Yachiru points out the paper, the palette, the two brushes and the cup of water on the floor, making sure Nemu is absolutely sure of what to do.

And, sure enough, Nemu nods seriously, her voice even as she replies. "I understand, Kusajishi-fukutaicho."

"Great!"

Yachiru lies down on her stomach to paint, legs swinging up in the air, and Nemu kneels on her knees, lowering herself to the ground gingerly. It's an incongruous image, a little girl and a grown woman both painting with watercolors.

For a few seconds, Yachiru wonders what she will paint. Then she grins, and reaches with her wet brush for the red paint.

The little girl hums absently as she paints, making sharp slashes across the paper with scarlet and orange and yellow and green, using only a little bit of the lighter blue paint for the sky. Nemu, by contrast, frowns in concentration, brow furrowed beneath her bangs. Yachiru doesn't notice at the moment, but Nemu only reaches for the darker colors on the palette, blues and purples and blacks and grays and browns.

Yachiru's painting a picture of a place in Rukongai she and Kenpachi went to last year. She can still remember it vividly; it was very pretty. She bites her lip absorbedly as she dabs the thin, fine brush down to form the head of a black-eyed susan. Nemu brings up a hand to her face absently and accidentally brushes away a bit of her foundation, revealing a blackening bruise on her lower left-hand jaw.

It's hard for Yachiru not to notice. "Hey, Miniskirt-chan, how'd you get that big mark on your face?"

Nemu dips her head. "I…I had an accident, Kusajishi-fukutaicho. It's nothing to worry about."

"It's bad to be so clumsy," Yachiru frowns severely, puffing out her lower lip. "Ken-chan says you get hurt in fights if you get clumsy."

"I will keep that in mind, Kusajishi-fukutaicho."

The day grows long, the sun starting to lower in the sky which is just starting to tint yellow. Yachiru is well into her second picture, nearly about to start on her third, but Nemu, with agonizing slowness and a visibly shaking wrist, is still painting her first picture, with small, fine, delicate strokes. Yachiru wonders where Kenpachi, Yumichika and Ikkaku have gotten off to, but it doesn't really bother her considering they've sometimes been gone long into the night. When that happens, Yachiru usually goes to the Sixth or Eighth or Thirteenth division grounds to get a free meal off of them; Yachiru's not a very good cook.

Finally, Yachiru looks with satisfaction at her third, finished picture. It's her rendition of the reactions Shuuhei and Nanao gave her when she found them in one of the abandoned offices in the Ninth division one day. The grisly threats both leveled at her were pretty impressive, actually; Yachiru told them that they were nearly up to standard with Kenpachi's threats before getting into a fight.

But Nemu has just finished her first, and is nursing her hand in the grip of the other, staring blankly down at it. Yachiru tilts her head curiously, craning her neck to try to get a better look at Nemu's picture. "What's your picture about, Miniskirt-chan?"

Nemu doesn't answer. Instead, all she does is, with the hand that apparently isn't aching, delicately pick the picture up off the ground and silently hand it to Yachiru.

Nemu's picture is a far cry from the bright, cheerful, at times irreverent works done by Yachiru. One, Nemu's watercolor actually looks like it's been done by someone with some experience with paint, and for another, it's far less substantial.

It is a work of swirls of paint in the darkest colors from the palette, insubstantial dark blue and purple and black. The brown and gray looks vaguely like buildings and a street, but Yachiru can't entirely be sure. The black seems to descend over everything despite not being the overwhelming color, which is purple, the same purple as bruises deep on the flesh.

Yachiru tips her head and frowns perplexedly, not quite capable of making heads or tails of it, though it'll all make sense later in the night and she'll lie awake and wonder. "I don't get it. It doesn't look like anywhere in the world."

Nemu's fingers twist together as her quiet voice answers. "This _is_ my world, Kusajishi-fukutaicho."


End file.
